by Nancy Gideon
He eased back to hold her gaze in his. “This is one of those times, detective, where you look me in the eye and tell me, ‘I trust you, Max. I know whatever you’ve done is because you love me.’”
She looked at him, into those gorgeous green eyes, and made a rude noise. “You’re blowing smoke up my skirt, Savoie.”
“Am I?” His smile was small and mysterious. “And that excites you, does it?”
“That you’re sitting there lying to me? No.”
“I don’t lie to you, Charlotte. I just don’t offer to tell you everything unless you ask me the right questions.”
“Why did you let him go?”
Again the smile. “Because I love you.” With a slight tinge of annoyance, he asked, “You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you think by saying that I’ll get all gooey and foolish and let you get away with anything.”
His voice was a low caress. “Would I be right?”
She glared at him, then looked pointedly away. “I haven’t decided.”
He chuckled and leaned back in his own seat, but he held on to her hand.
For a while, they just listened to the music while Cee Cee contemplated the situation. What was done was done. She couldn’t rescind choices already made. And she would just have to trust him. He made it sound like it was such an easy thing, that trust.
But as her mood settled and mellowed, she was surprised to discover that maybe it was simpler than the alternative. She thought of Babineau’s prophetic words about drawing that line that could never be crossed again, and she wasn’t ready to make this into that moment. She had enough difficulties to overcome in their relationship without dropping an ultimatum on top. Including the obstacle playing out right in front of her.
He sat beside her, communicating on a level that excluded her completely. His gaze moved in a quick flicker around the crowded club, settling briefly like a mental handshake, a pat on the back. Or, she wondered as several lovely females smiled at him, on the butt. She took a long swallow of her drink, and tried not to let it matter that everyone around her conversed in a silent foreign language.
Max might be the intuitive one, but she wasn’t so thick that she was unaware of the thinly veiled hostility bristling about her. She wasn’t of them; she was an intruder. And she was taking something from them that didn’t belong to her. Something powerful and important. She knew their secrets and was in a position to reveal or exploit them. That made her too dangerous to simply ignore. And unlike Max, they had no reason at all to trust her.
There were few situations that scared her. She’d wade into a biker bar fight, confront hard-core felons with her bare hands, or face a ticking bomb without breaking a sweat. But sitting among these beings, she felt a tremor of fear. They were so strange, so strong, so beyond the scope of anything she’d ever imagined. They didn’t recognize her laws or her authority. Hell, they didn’t even follow the laws of nature.
And they’d managed to sink their emotional claws into the man she loved. To have him she’d have to be tolerated by them, if not welcomed. It was one thing to sit at Max’s side as if she belonged there. It was another to walk alone among them. They could smell fear, and they could undoubtedly smell it on her now. That simply wasn’t acceptable.
Max’s attention snapped up to her as she stood.
“I’m going to the ladies’ room.”
“I’ll go with you.”
She laughed and pressed him back into his seat. “No thank you. I’ve been going by myself for quite a few years now, and I think I can manage.”
“I only meant—”
“I know what you meant. If I’m not back in ten, come looking for me. Knock first.”
He didn’t share her smile or her levity. He was measuring the distance to the hallway that would take her out of his sight.
“Relax, Savoie. It’s not like they’re going to try to eat me right under your nose.” He looked so solemn. “Are they?”
“No. I won’t allow it.”
“There. Now I feel safe and special.” She was teasing him, but she shared his caution. She put her palm on his cheek, bending to touch a light kiss to his lips. “I’ll be right back.”
His hand covered hers, gloving it tightly until she pulled gently away.
“Don’t grope any waitresses while I’m gone.”
His smile was grim.
She left the table and started through the gauntlet of glowering stares. She kept her head high, her step aggressive, and her hand close to her silver-loaded weapon. Unexpectedly a corridor seemed to open for her. Couples stepped aside and waited; chairs moved back. Then she understood: Max was clearing the way like parting the Red Sea.
She turned back to him and scowled slightly, letting him know she didn’t appreciate the almost smothering mantle of protection being thrown over her. He just smiled and waved her on her way. She continued past those who would wish her harm but wouldn’t act on it. She belonged to Max Savoie, and no one dared touch what was his. And at the moment, that was a good thing.
It was like the interior of any bar bathroom she’d ever been in. The air hung thick with smoke and strong perfumes. Several females stood at the sink, reapplying their makeup. Conversation stopped when they saw her. She nodded in acknowledgment and went into a stall. The moment the door shut they began to talk again, this time in low whispers.
“. . . like she owns the place.”
“Like she owns him.”
Catty laughter.
“If he wanted her for more than a toss or two, she’d be wearing his mark.”
“That still wouldn’t make her one of us. She can’t give him what we can, and he’ll realize that soon enough. And when he does, I’ll be the first in line.”
By the time Cee Cee emerged from the stall, simmering and ready to go toe-to-toe, she was alone in the restroom. As she washed her hands, she glanced at her reflection. Max had made a mess of her mouth, something none of those nasty little creatures could claim. She drew on another glossy coat. As she tucked her lipstick away, her attention shifted. She drew the collar of Max’s coat away from the smooth skin between her neck and shoulder.
No mark. No link to his other life, to the deeper, darker desires Rollo hinted at.
She scowled fiercely. “No line forms behind me, bitches.”
She opened the door and went out to stake her claim.
Seventeen
JACQUES LAROCHE WAS standing at the table talking to Max when Cee Cee returned. She nodded to him, then asked, “Is there someplace Max and I can talk without being interrupted? It’ll just take a minute or two.”
LaRoche gestured behind him. “My office. Max knows where it is.”
Max got up wordlessly, cued by her strained intensity, and led the way into the back. LaRoche’s office was a surprise, all chrome, black, and red, as sleek and stylized as LaRoche was not. One whole wall was a one-way mirror looking out over the revving-up club scene, which made for a voyeuristic privacy. But it had a lock on the door, and that was all Cee Cee was interested in.
Max regarded her, his brows elevated. “What’s this about, Charlotte?”
Her mouth was on his with such ferocity, it knocked him back a step. He managed to haul her back so he could gasp for air and answers. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Then don’t. Shut up and put out, Savoie.”
“You are so romantic, detective.” She chained rough kisses about his neck. “What if I can’t perform under this unexpected pressure?”
Her hand dropped below his belt for an assessing fondle. “Just my luck. Appears to be high performance all the way.”
He chuckled and began to nuzzle and nip at her rather roughly, his attention supercharged by her aggression. “And what kind of handling are you looking for?”
“Fast and reckless.”
He dropped down on both knees in front of her without another word, dragging her panties down along the way. His head ducked under her short skirt and, tilting
her hips forward, he used his mouth to rocket her off the starting line to a quick, shattering climax. While she reeled from that release, he tugged her down atop him and plunged deeply inside her.
“You drive, sha. I love to watch you shift gears.” His voice rumbled low and throaty, like a powerful engine.
Their kisses were hard and hungry. They moved together with fierce urgency, demanding, taking, pushing sensation to the limit and beyond to where pleasure was a hot wind-tunnel ride, ripping away restraint. His hands clutched the backs of her thighs the way he hung onto her dash when she was driving the muscle car. She was just as tough and powerful as that street machine, boldly rushing, roaring toward a goal just out of reach until she gripped him like the Jaws of Life and they both flashed over the line. Photo finish, winners all. She slumped against him, her arms dangling limply down his back, her chest laboring against his.
“Call for road service, baby,” she sighed. “I think I just blew an engine.”
Out of breath, shaky and grinning, Max kissed her, stunned by the force of their impromptu coupling. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids with all-consuming tenderness, so filled up with love for her that there was nothing beyond the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her on his lips, the scent of her in his nose. He laughed softly as he breathed in the hot, wild smell of well-enjoyed sex.
“Everyone out there is going to know exactly what we were ‘discussing’ back here.”
Cee Cee smiled. “Good.” There was a hint of grim satisfaction in her voice.
“Is that what this was about?” His tone was soft and even, but she wasn’t fooled.
She touched his cheek, but he moved back from her placating caress. “You brought me back here so the scent of you would be all over me.”
There was no use pretending, so she said it plainly. “I didn’t want there to be any mistake.”
“Mistake on whose part? Do you still doubt me, Charlotte?”
“No.”
He began to frown. “Did someone say something to you? Is that it? Tell me.”
Her gaze shifted away to conceal the anxiousness gripping inside her. “No one had to, Max. I’m not part of what you’ve found out there. I never will be. They have a part of you that is beyond my reach, and . . . and it scares me. Because I’m afraid of losing you to them. Jimmy was one thing. I understood him. But these . . . these . . .”
“Monsters?” he supplied quietly.
“No.” She shook her head. “Family. Your family. That’s how you see them. How can I compete with that?”
“Why do you feel you have to? What can I do to reassure you? Do you want me to stop coming here?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not. I don’t think it’s funny. I don’t know how many times, how many other ways I can try to convince you how important you are to me, if you won’t believe it. What do I have to do? Wear a collar with a tag that says, ‘If found, return to Detective Caissie’? Have a shirt claiming, ‘Hands off, I’m with her’? Wear a ring through my nose?” His voice lowered. “On my hand? You are everything I need or want. Charlotte, look at me. I love you. That’s not going to change just because the things around us change.”
She nodded, miserable and unconvinced. She reached out to him again, wanting the comfort of his embrace. He evaded her touch. “Now you’re angry with me.”
He didn’t deny it. His tone was fierce when he told her, “I love you, Charlotte. There is nothing I would not do for you. I would let you walk on my naked body with those wicked heels. I would trail behind you on a leash or on my knees, if that’s what you wanted. But there are differences that keep us from being an acceptable part of each other’s worlds. You need to push me out of yours to placate your bosses. I understand that, even though I don’t like it. The situation is the same here. I can’t make my kind embrace you just because I do. My position with them is tenuous at best, yet you think you can force yourself into their private places and not upset or offend them.”
Her tone cooled. “Are we talking about them or you, Max?”
He shook his head in frustration. “What do you want? What can I do?”
“Put your mark on me.”
For a long moment, he simply stared at her. “What?”
She pulled the collar of his jacket aside to expose her skin. “Make me yours in a way they’ll understand and respect.”
He didn’t move. Finally he said, “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Yes I do.”
“Who told you about such things?” Irritation warred with anxiety in his tone.
“Rollo. He told me I could never hold on to you because there were others who’d give you what I can’t.” Her eyes began to glimmer with fright, with desperation. “There’s nothing that you need that I can’t give you, Max. Nothing. I’m not afraid of what you are.”
“But I am.” He stood abruptly, dumping her from his lap onto her rump, straightening his clothes. He took an unsteady breath. “We won’t talk about this again.”
And he left her there, sprawled and exposed on the floor, with her raw emotions and fearful heart.
It took her a minute to gather her courage. Then she got up and went into the small private bathroom off LaRoche’s office and washed herself clean of Max’s scent, scrubbing it away as if that would erase the taint of her insecurity. She touched up her appearance as best she could, drew back her shoulders, then went back to the table, where Max was talking to LaRoche and Philo Tibideaux. He didn’t glance her way so she sat quietly, chin up, her expression set while her insides shook to pieces. Carefully she touched the back of his hand where it had come to rest on his thigh. Just a brush of her fingertips, quickly withdrawn.
He gave no sign of having felt it. The arrogant tip of her head began to sink until she stared at the glass rings on the table, their interlocking circles beginning to blur.
She didn’t need any special gift to know they were the center of attention. Max Savoie’s Upright cop girlfriend, claiming what could never be hers, sitting where she didn’t belong. Keeping him from seizing all that he could be. Putting him on a short chain to control him, just like Jimmy Legere had, to use him for her own benefit.
She’d brazen it out for the moment, but she would never return here with him. He’d made it very clear that she had no place on this side of the threshold. This was his world. And if she kept pushing him to share it, she was going to lose him that much sooner.
What was she going to do when he was gone?
She listened to his tone as he talked. Such authority, such confidence. No longer Jimmy’s shadow. No longer the silently smoldering enigma who’d chased after her with unflagging devotion, who’d challenged her to dream of him. He’d become her every dream, and now she could no longer hold on to it.
His gaze came up when she stood.
“I’m going to take off, Max. Tomorrow’s going to be busy and I’m really tired.”
She saw him realize her fatigue was from being up all night caring for him.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Of course we can go.”
She put a hand on his shoulder when he started to rise. “No need for you to cut your evening short. I know my way home.”
“To mine?”
“If you like.”
Her subdued reply made deep furrows gather between his brows. “I like.”
“All right. I’ll see you later, then.” Her fingertips brushed lightly along his jaw, then she nodded to the other two at the table. Take care of him for me.
The hardest part was taking that first step away from him. She walked purposefully, putting an extra kick in her stride so they wouldn’t think they’d driven her away. Even though it was true.
She was edging around the dance floor when his hand met the small of her back, warm and familiar. She looked up, unable to prevent the sheen of wetness in her gaze.
“They’re playing our song, detective.”
She wasn’t aware of any music. S
he wasn’t aware of anything but him.
He gave a slight tug, bringing her into the circle of his arms. She hid against his shoulder, unable to face him when so foolishly vulnerable. Her hands rested in a neutral position on the sway of his hips as he moved her to the crooning melody: “By My Side.”
When he felt the first suspicious hitch in her breathing, his grip on her tightened, one hand cupping the back of her head as his mouth brushed her brow. “Don’t cry, sha.”
“I’m not. I’m just tired and I don’t want to fight with you anymore. And I’m sorry. Let me go, Max. I want to go.”
“Letting you go is not an option. Not ever. Stay here with me and we’ll finish our date. If you’re tired, you can sleep on my shoulder. If you want to go, I’ll go with you and we can sleep together. I want to spend all night with you and wake up with you in the morning. For the rest of my life.”
When she didn’t respond, he nudged his head against hers. “I’m not angry with you, Charlotte. I was flattered to think you were so hot for me that you simply couldn’t wait another minute to have me. My ego was a bit deflated is all. You know what a gigantic ego I have.”
She turned so that their gazes met, but she wasn’t smiling as he’d hoped. “I’m so hot for you, I simply can’t wait another minute to have you. There’s never a time when that’s not the truth.”
His eyelids lowered, his stare glittering like a cool green flame. “Yeah? And what exactly do you find so irresistible about me? I want specifics.”
She touched behind one ear. “The way your hair curls just a little right here. That’s sexy as hell.”
He looked surprised and a bit perplexed. “Yeah? Okay. What else?”
“Here.” She pressed her lips to the side of his neck. “Where your skin is so warm and smooth, and I know I’m making your heart beat fast. The way it is now.”
He swallowed. “What else?”
“Your voice. Just the sound of it, all deep and mellow, melts me like butter.”
“Really. Is there more?”
“Your hands.” She slid a kiss across his palm, then fit it to the side of her face. “So strong, so clever, so amazingly gentle. I’ve never let anyone touch me the way you do. Not ever.” Her voice lowered, softening. “The way you stop when I ask you to. I trust you, Max. And I love you.”
